


you can want who you want

by dameofpowellestate



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Yoga, And nice thighs, Love from afar, M/M, Mild Internalized Homophobia, New York City, Patrick Brewer figures out his sexuality, and patrick is obsessed, david has nice hands, panic cups of tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dameofpowellestate/pseuds/dameofpowellestate
Summary: When a dance studio moves in across the street from Patrick's Brooklyn apartment he starts second guessing, well, everything. The ballet teacher he can see dancing from his living room window definitely has nothing to do with it.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 38
Kudos: 176
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	you can want who you want

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> These sports would normally play on ESPN 3 or other small market stations - Roller Derby, Bowling, Scrabble Tournaments, Spelling Bees, Billiards/Pool, Frisbee, hacky sack, beer pong, beer olympics, jello wrestling, competitive knitting. 
> 
> Your submission for this prompt can be fully in an Alternate Universe, just canon divergent or fully canon compliant. For example:  
>    
> _College AU with some beer pong/hacky sack/jello wrestling shenanigans?_
> 
> _Meet ugly on opposite bowling teams?_
> 
> _The Schitt's Creek Adult Spelling Bee to Benefit the random charity of your choice?_
> 
> _Stevie Budd and the impressive roller derby team of the Schitt Heads road trip to Beast of the East in Montreal?_
> 
> If you can count points, it's a sport!

There are days, as the summer months come to a close, that Patrick deeply regrets following his gut and moving to the city that never sleeps. 

The air smells like stale urine. The subway feels much closer to a sewer than a mode of public transportation. The rats aren't even bothering to deem it worthy of their presence. 

He's not really made very many friends, because he surely can't count the old man that works at the dry cleaners down the street or the one bartender that works at the dive bar down the street that's locally famous for HBO paying for the air conditioning. 

New York is a weird place, and maybe that's what made him think he could find a place for himself here.

But as the nights become cooler and the days shorter, he feels his spirits lift. The crisp air reminds him of home and he becomes determined to make this place feel more like it. 

It also helps that the people watching he can do from his fifth floor walk-up gets an upgrade when a small dance studio moves into the building across the street. 

Patrick loves sports, he plays sports… watches sports. Even figure skating and gymnastics when the Olympics roll around but this, this is something  _ different.  _

He can see directly into the studio from his couch as he drinks his morning coffee or eats his dinner in the evenings. 

It's quiet most mornings, but the evenings after he gets home from work are full of activity. 

A girl with dark brown hair teaches what he can only assume is a jazz class. An ethereal blonde teaches something he thinks may be a mix of hip hop and musical theatre? 

His favorite though, is the ballet class that happens on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. 

He's never seen a man move the way the teacher does, he also… well, he doesn't think he's ever seen a more beautiful human in his entire life.

Which, he has to admit is a very strange development, though it becomes significantly less strange as he lays restless in bed most nights picking through memories of locker room encounters, sleepovers with friends and that one game of spin the bottle back in junior high. 

He thinks maybe it should feel… wrong? That he allows himself to watch the dance classes and on occasion what seems to be solo studio time. That it should feel wrong… these things he's feeling for someone so distinctly different than anyone he's ever been with before. A man. 

He oscillates between wanting and accepting this new part of himself and condemning and mistrusting it.

He also wonders idly where these feelings are coming from, where they've been hiding… where he'd stuffed them all these years.

Under the obligation that felt like lead in his stomach? Behind the need to make everyone around him happy that's only recently become dislodged from his throat. 

—————

He needs a night out, a break from his routine. Something other than the monotony of the work week.

Or at least a different place to have whatever journey of self discovery he's on.

The problem is, he still doesn't really know anyone and he's only been to a few local bars... so he stops at his favorite on his way home from work. 

He likes it because it doesn't seem to be a tourist destination, they always have good beer on tap, and there's plenty of screens for watching games and most of the time they’ve got the Jays on.

It’s not really dead, but it is a Wednesday. He sidles up to the bar and orders a local IPA and watches a replay from the last Yankee’s game.

He can’t figure out exactly why he’s not made any new friends but he thinks it must be because he’s not had to make  _ new  _ friends on his own in a long time. The last time he’s had to meet new people was in college. The rest were all friends he’d had since he was a kid or the odd mix of couple friends he’d had with Rachel.

It had been easy. Effortless. So much of his old life had been like that. It’s part of what led to the great unease that had taken root in Patrick’s chest.

It wasn’t the kind of easy he thinks people talk about when they talk about being with the love of your life. It was easy because it had always been there, second nature… boring. Being with Rachel, living that life was easy but it wasn’t fulfilling. 

It’s why he’d moved here. He knew living here wouldn’t be easy but he felt a bit like a pulled muscle that needed to be stretched. He wanted to stretch himself, figure out who he was outside of lifelong expectations and familiarity.

And he’s well, he’s figured out quite a bit in the last few weeks. He just, he doesn’t understand fully why it’d taken him so long. 

He supposes it has to do with the comfort that comes with familiarity. That he’d loved Rachel so terribly much that he hadn’t noticed it wasn’t to the extent she deserved… the way he thought he’d been loving her.

There was just so much he hadn’t known and he… really likes knowing things. It’s enough to drive him mad. It’s enough that he waves the bartender over for another beer.

Once he has his new beer in hand he turns to see if anyone else had entered the bar while he’d been lost in his head when suddenly there’s a beaming and friendly face only about two feet from his own.

"Oh my gosh, for a second I thought you were my cousin, well he's more of a third cousin? Anyway, he's got shoulders kind of like yours. Oh! Here…"

Patrick blinks several times as his brain fights to catch up with what's happening, but it seems he's being ambushed by a pretty girl with a wide toothy grin.

He hadn't noticed her when he got here and he feels like he probably would have. She’s bright. A bit like sunshine.

She's now frantically digging through her purse… the bag nearly engulfing her small frame.

Which fits because the bag vaguely reminds him of Mary Poppins’ carpet bag.

"Uh… what?" He asks dumbly.

And then a bright pink flyer is being waved in his face and he's at a complete loss for what kind of social interaction this is. 

"I think my cousin could have greatly benefited from yoga classes and it just so happens I'm teaching one! He's been excommunicated from my family for a few years now."

"I'm sorry… I'm having a little trouble, um. You teach yoga?" 

"Yes! I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself but, you know, I thought I already knew you. I'm Twyla, I teach yoga at the dance studio a few blocks up?"

"Oh, the one on Putnam? My uh, my apartment building is across the street actually," he rushes out and are his hands sweating? No, no it's the beer bottle he's now gripping far too tightly.

Twyla swings her bag over the back of the barstool next to Patrick and takes a seat, clearly thrilled at this development.

"So, I'll definitely see you in class then? It'll be really great, your shoulders  _ do  _ look a little tense."

Patrick studies her for a second, gauging her intention… if she's flirting, how is he going to react if she  _ is  _ flirting.

Does he tell her he's… gay? Is he gay? 

But he sees nothing but kindness, genuine interest.

He takes the flyer and extends his hand, "I'm Patrick, and I'd love to come to your yoga class. I could use something to help me relax I think? This city seems to make everyone a little tense."

The bartender approaches and takes Twyla's order of a club soda with lime when they don't have something called Zhampagne.

"Oh, so you're new here? To New York? I've not been here too terribly long myself. Well, maybe about two years. I came down with Mutt, my ex, to find a rare type of pine cone but he ended things and went back to Canada when we weren't able to find it." 

"I just moved here from Canada!" He says, choosing to dissect the rest of her story another time. "I moved here a few months ago and it's been… well, I like living here but it's very different from small town Canada that's for sure."

"It is! But you've picked the right area. This neighborhood is relatively quiet comparatively  _ and  _ nearly everyone at the studio is from home! Isn't that so funny? It's like we all gravitated to the same area. I should start asking everyone if they're from Canada…" she says looking around the bar as if she might just start now.

He likes Twyla, he finds as she prattles on. She's charming and extremely comfortable in her own skin… which is a trait Patrick's realizing he's never really had.

Or he has, but it looks different now because he feels different now.

It's weird, being here and finding himself second guessing, well, himself. He's always been confident and sure and steady, and he still feels like that but it's more that he feels confident and sure in his… uncertainty. 

He left home confidently, when he'd ended things with Rachel he'd been sure about it.

When he thinks about that ballet dancer across the street… he's certain he finds him attractive.

" _ Anyway,  _ you'll see when you come to class. It's a great group. There's Alexis, she's so nice. And Stevie, Stevie is um, we'll she's really great, wonderful actually. She teaches a jazz class that's super fun! And then of course there's our fearless leader, David. He teaches ballet. He's the best dancer we've got but don’t mention that to Alexis, she gets really upset," she says with a clear fondness of this community they've created. 

He wants that. Maybe he can find it with a ragtag group of Canadian dancers. 

They spend another round of drinks talking about growing up in a small town, a lot about Stevie, and Patrick can't wait for yoga.

And when he goes home that night he's pretty sure he's finally made a friend.

—————

The dance studio is much more… chic than he thought it would be. The lobby is made up of cool colors and clean lines and there's definitely an essential oil diffuser somewhere because he feels his body relax almost instantly as his nose fills with what smells like jasmine and teakwood. 

He picked up a yoga mat from the holistic book store in Williamsburg yesterday and keeps switching it nervously from one arm to the other as he waits to be let into the studio.

He sees a few familiar faces from around the neighborhood but can't really place anyone until he spots the object of far too many dreams in the corner.

Patrick notices too many things too quickly.

He notices how self conscious he suddenly is about his threadbare navy sweatpants and old fraternity t-shirt. 

He notices how perfectly pointed the man's toes are as he runs his hands over them as if he's stretching them, one leg crossed over the other as he waits on the bench.

How large but delicate he seems to be, perfectly toned and trim and… beautiful.

And then he notices the black rolled up yoga mat sitting at his side. This he notices just milliseconds before he's being ushered into the studio by a very excited Twyla… David, the ballet teacher, close behind him. 

Patrick sets his mat up near the center of the room, not willing to be in the front while also not willing to sacrifice a good view of well, of course of Twyla, but also the ballet teacher. 

He's a little worried he may be manifesting things when the man sets his mat up directly in front of his own.

To say he's not prepared to see those long muscled legs up close is a blatant understatement.

He's seen his share of muscled men, he's played enough sports and shared enough locker room showers but there's something so different about this man, about the way Patrick feels when he looks at this man.

It's the grace of his movements surely, that are so mesmerizing. 

Maybe it's the distinct divets in his thighs that scream strength as he stretches on the mat in front of Patrick.

His shorts are… barely shorts and they make his legs seem endless. 

This is… maybe this isn't a good idea.

He's trying to figure out well, whatever the hell he's trying to figure out about his sexuality and here is the man that's quite literally sparked or ignited… or inflamed his entire being just from the way his body moves and he's only ever seen it through a window before now.

He turns his gaze to Twyla just in time as she begins to lead them through the class, her quirky stories seemingly just a part of who she is instead of an unconventional way of inviting people to her class. 

Twyla's a great instructor. Her words are calm and soothing as she leads them through a breathing exercise and then through a series of poses. He finds the breathing allows his shoulders to relax in a way he's not sure they ever have. His body feels good as he works to meet the demands of the different poses.

He does his best to keep his eyes either closed or on Twyla and finds himself successful until Twyla starts making the rounds.

His eyes follow her until she crosses on the other side of David and Patrick's eyes are back on David. His torso is elongated enough for his shirt to have risen up, a sliver of toned skin visible. Nothing beats those legs though, god… he's never. They're, well they're actual works of art. 

David's head turns in his direction and Patrick's eyes fly to David's face from where they'd been staring at the strip of skin and he can feel his cheeks flush. 

David just smirks and turns his head back around. 

Patrick wishes he could sink into the floor, his eyes are going to get him into trouble. 

He does end up sinking into the floor as Twyla leads them through a cool down of lying on their backs and following her breathing routine. 

His whole body fully relaxes for the first time in months, his mind seems to defog for those few blissfully calm minutes until Twyla is dismissing them. 

He takes him time rolling up his mat and finds himself face to face with David when he finally stands ready to go.

He should say something, make conversation…  _ not compliment him on how nice his ass looks in those not-quite-shorts. _

He sticks his hand out, "hi, I'm Patrick! You’re David right? The owner?"

David blinks up at Patrick, standing from where he'd been crouched to roll up his yoga mat. 

David's hand engulfs his own for a too brief shake, "yes? How did you–"

"Sorry! I met Twyla the other day at a bar?" 

Which still really doesn't explain how he knows but David looks like he's connected a few dots and nods his head. 

"Oh, okay. You're a friend of Twyla's. She's really good at bringing people in, they just don't normally stay?" He says, gesturing around the room that hadn't been overly full to start with and is now empty save for them and Twyla talking to a girl with long brown hair, who just did yoga in a flannel shirt and must be the girl that teaches the jazz class.

"Well I… really enjoyed class. I'll be back for sure. I've always played sports like baseball and hockey but haven't really looked into finding local teams here."

"Oh well, yoga's very different from what you're used to. I myself am not a fan of team sports. Given today's political climate we don't need to divide ourselves anymore than we already have."

Patrick runs a hand across his mouth to cover a fond grin he knows settles there as he watches David's hands flap along with his words. 

—————

He’s not in grade school, he’s not going to go home and write Mr. David Rose on his binder. He’s just going to go home and think about David’s legs and the three minute long conversation and over analyze it to death… you know, like an adult. 

He showers and puts on his flannel pajama pants before curling up on his leather sofa with a nice cup of tea. 

Yoga had been much more than he’d bargained for. He’d loved it, the yoga itself. The studio. The sense of community even after only one session.

Maybe it was the fact the building was basically just Canadians and that in itself was enough to make him feel at home. Maybe it was how relaxed he’d felt after. He’s honestly not sure but he knows he’ll be going back as soon as possible. 

David had mentioned they’ve not had a lot of luck with getting return customers, and he wonders idly if there’s anything he can do to help.

Surely an event would bring people in and show everyone what they have to offer. He doesn’t think the studio has space to house people so they’ll have to rent out a space to have whatever a dance studio equivalent of an open mic is. Maybe charge a small overhead and drink tickets to cover the cost and bring in a little money wouldn’t be a bad idea either. 

Advertising is a must. Patrick wonders if they’ve got any money set aside for this type of thing. He should really talk to David, ask if he can see the financials, talk to the business manager or see if they even have one… if they need one. 

He also really needs to slow down because he’s been to this studio once and talked to David for three minutes. 

There’s just something about this space, about David that makes him want to do everything he can to see them succeed. Not that they  _ need  _ Patrick to do it, he just wants to be a part of it and he can’t for the life of him explain why he’s having this strong of a reaction to a dance studio of all places. 

Maybe because it feels a little like a little slice of home in this wild and weird city. Maybe because the people he’s met there are the nicest people he’s met in this city.

Maybe because he has a crush on the owner.

He lets the warm tea settle in his stomach as the mug warms his hands and sinks further into the cushions. 

Now that he’s seen David do yoga, it only makes him want to see him dance all the more and god he wants to talk to him again. 

He’s quick and funny and Patrick’s never seen anyone as animated as David. His hands had waved and moved along with his words much like the way his body moves to music. It had been so charming. 

He’ll take a look at performance spaces and mock up some numbers tomorrow, make David a spreadsheet. 

—————

He starts going to every yoga class Twyla teaches in the evenings, spending more time with her and by association Stevie and a few other regulars. They go out sometimes for dinner after yoga. Alexis keeps trying to convince him to take her hip hop class and he keeps trying to tell her no one could possibly ever want to see him attempt anything close to dancing. 

Patrick's also flirting with David, he  _ knows  _ he's flirting with David because it's similar to the ways he'd flirted with Rachel and the handful of other girls he's been with but it's different. 

It feels different. Right.

He teases him about having a sloppy mouth when he misses it with his water bottle after yoga one evening and that gets a very satisfying reaction. His stomach swoops drastically when he sees the corners of David's mouth twitch up even as it hangs open is disbelief.

David gives back as good as he gets though. Sometimes he'll set his mat up in what's come to be Patrick's spot, making Patrick set his up in the front of the class.

David acts like he doesn't know what he's making such a big deal about and Patrick secretly hopes it's because David wants an excuse to check out his ass for a change.

It's all fun and games until Twyla has to attend the funeral of her 4th cousin's pet turtle and David subs in her place. 

Logically, it's not any different than watching David in front of him all the week prior but he moves through the room with the grace and confidence he's still only seen from his apartment window.

He's able to control his torrent of thoughts until David stops by his mat and asks softly if he can adjust Patrick's position.

Once he nods he feels David's large hands shift his hips into a-- granted-- much more comfortable position. 

And he's fine. He is. Except he can't stop thinking about how large and strong David's hands are.

So distinctly masculine. 

Something he didn't know he'd been longing for. Well, he's known for a few weeks but not— not like this. 

The thought of David’s hands follow him home, into the shower, into bed that night. He’s not been successful in getting the man out of his head for weeks but now, it’s like some kind of seal has been broken and his imagination is getting the better of him and driving him absolutely insane. 

————— 

David's absent from their next class and Patrick’s tries not to have any feelings about it but the anxious thought that it has something to do with their last class makes his chest tighten. Something to do with David’s hands on his body… how Patrick had all but fled the room after class just so he could go home and think about nothing but those hands… well, he has quite a few feelings about that and none of them are positive. 

Twyla's back from her trip though, and he spends the time after class he usually spends flirting with David hearing all about the turtle's funeral.

“It was actually a really nice service and the lunch after was very nice. We ate all of Albert’s favorite foods. Lettuce, strawberries… there were pellets out but no one really ate those.”

Patrick chuckles, “That does sound nice Twyla. I’m glad you got to see your family!”

Twyla grins brightly at Patrick before her eyes dart over his shoulder and her smile turns tender and fond. When he turns to look, he’s unsuprised to find Stevie waiting in the doorway.

He follows Twyla out into the hallway and pointedly doesn’t react when Twyla pulls on the sleeve of Stevie’s flannel shirt affectionately. 

“You should come out with us Patrick!” Twyla offers brightly, but judging by Stevie’s reaction he decides maybe a night alone would do the two of them some good.

“Maybe next time. But, before you leave… Do you know what happened to David tonight?” 

Stevie smirks knowingly at him and nods her head towards the smaller classroom down the hall. 

“I’m sure he’d be glad to see you,” Stevie says in a tone that makes him wonder if she’s teasing him or if she’s teasing him but actually means David would be glad to see him.

“Have a nice night Stevie,” he says pointedly and tries to give her his best knowing smirk as payback.

He can hear a slow pulsing beat and a women's voice singing as he nears the doorway and he's struck dumb in an instant.

He should move along, head home… stop standing in this doorway watching David's body move through what seems to be a very intricate routine. 

He can't quite place the song but it sounds… like sex. 

And David looks, well he always looks like… he just looks really good, moving his arms around his body as he spins, arches, leaps.

He's wearing a tank top and Patrick's eyes move along the rippling muscles of his shoulders and biceps and he longs to trace them with his hands.

Patrick feels his heart skip a beat when his eyes meet David's for a split second as he spins, and he feels his heart stop when on the next spin he can tell, just for a second that David is smirking at him. 

Heat flashes across the back of his neck and settles somewhere in the pit of his stomach. 

David knows he's watching and doesn't seem to mind it… he looks down right smug about it.

David eventually comes to a stop as the song slows and doesn't meet Patrick's gaze immediately. He takes his time, grabs his water bottle and throws on his sweater that's been folded neatly on a chair in the corner.

As soon as David's head emerges from his sweater he turns though and his gaze meets Patrick's. 

He swallows at the heat in David's gaze. It's no more than a simmer, but it's something. Enough that Patrick’s skin seems to simmer right along with it.

"Sorry I missed yoga, I'm trying to nail down this routine.”

Patrick can tell that’s really the reason. There’s no hesitancy with David, he doesn’t seem to be overthinking last week as much as Patrick has been. Probably because David’s a professional and he’d been doing his job. There was no way for David to know he’d given Patrick something to have four meltdowns about. 

"Impressive routine. You looked great, the song is very… sexy?" he says, his eyes moving from David's charmingly ruffled hair to meet his eyes.

"Yeah?" David asks, his eyebrow arching and his smirk deadly.

"Look, what I know about dance has come exclusively from watching Center Stage with my ex and what little time I've spent in this studio but yeah… it's beautiful."

David's lips tick up just a bit in the corners and his eyebrows dance nearly as elegantly as he does. 

“Well, as long as we can stay open maybe you’ll get to see it performed sometime,” David says offhandedly, as if he’s trying to dismiss the fact he’s actually worried about how the studio is doing.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about the studio. I’m a business major and I have a few ideas?”

David’s eyebrows shoot up, “Really? You’d want to do that… help us?”

“Well yeah, I love this place too.”

David’s lips pull to one side of his face in a small warm smile, “Okay, what did you have in mind?"

"I've got a few ideas worked out at home and I've done some research and run some numbers. I can show you sometime. But I was thinking maybe there's a dance studio equivalent of an open mic night? A showcase?"

David grimaces and Patrick worried instantly he's made a mistake, crossed some kind of line, but David waves him on.

"It would bring people in, show them what you have to offer. You can sell drinks and appetizers to cover some of the cost? Like I said, I've got some of the financials mocked up on a spreadsheet. I can… email it to you?"

"Why do you want to help us with this?" David asks, moving through the doorway of the room but stopping just short of entering the hallway, both of them now crowded together in the small space.

Patrick can feel the damp heat of David's body and if he was in a period drama he'd surely swoon, but he's not. He does his best to hold himself together.

"I have a passion for open mic nights?" He teases, only a little breathlessly.

"They're literally my worst nightmare… but I'll think about it. I've had a performance idea for a bit, maybe I can…..flesh it out." He says, his hands waving absently between them. 

"Okay, yeah! I'll email you and you can talk it over with everyone and I'll do whatever I can to help," Patrick says, his hand reaching to squeeze David's shoulder.

Patrick watches as David's lips tuck inside his mouth and the corner ticks up.

Patrick wants to do everything he can to keep David smiling, it’s ridiculous.

—————

It’s been weeks since Patrick started going out with the group after yoga. Stevie and Twyla, Alexis and whomever she's dating at the time and a handful of others from class. He really feels like a part of this community of Canadians living in New York City. 

He really likes Twyla of course but he greatly enjoys Stevie's company as well, though not as much as he suspects Twyla does. They're never far apart at these outings and he hopes someone gets up the courage to make a move soon. 

David's never come out after yoga with them though, no matter how many times they ask.

Never until today, the day they decide to go to a club instead of out to dinner or a nearby dive bar. 

Maybe that’s why David agrees to come, maybe it’s because Patrick looked at him a bit too hopefully after class but he doesn't care because David is here, sitting across from him.

David's dark eyes shining brightly in the dimness of the bar, a cosmopolitan on the rocks sitting nearly empty on the napkin in front of him.

"Does anyone want another round of drinks?" Alexis's current flame Ted, the one that seems to be somewhat permanent asks. 

Almost everyone nods.

"I'd… better not. My body won't thank me for it tomorrow," David asks while looking longingly down at his current drink.

"Your body is perfect." Patrick says and he thinks his eyes might fall out of his head. 

He can't believe he just said that. To David. In front of everyone. 

"I just… I mean—" he starts in an attempt to back track before he makes his mind up. He meant those words, means those words. 

"No yeah, your body  _ is _ perfect. So, if you want another drink, you should have one."

He swallows hard and downs the rest of his beer, his eyes not leaving David's.

He's always been a take charge kind of guy right? 

"Yeah, okay Ted… one more," David says but he's not looking at Ted, his eyes haven't left Patrick's.

He's calculating and observing, just like Patrick. Looking for signs of jest, waiting for the other shoe to drop, he's sure, but he won't find it on Patrick's face… he's certain. He knows what he thinks about David and he, well he wants David to know too.

"Yeah David! You never come out with us anymore! Have some fun!" Stevie calls from down the table as she tosses a peanut in his direction, finally breaking their eye contact.

The table dissolves into laughter as everyone takes turns trying to decide why David has been MIA for months and why he's suddenly back now but Patrick's fairly certain from the flash of Stevie's smile his direction, she thinks it's him.

He hopes it's him.

One night out with this man and Patrick just... he knows. He settles into this new part of himself quicker than he has over the weeks, months of turmoil. 

They have just enough time to take a sip of their new drinks before David's eyes meet Patrick's again as the song shifts.

David's eyes flash dangerously as Tina comes over the sound system. He slips out of the booth with a small shimmy of his shoulders as The Best fills the space.

The lights change to shades of purple and pink and highlight the perfect bone structure of his face and Patrick's so lost in his beauty he almost misses David grasping his hand and pulling him along with him on the dance floor.

He vaguely hears Alexis wolf whistle, Stevie's shouts of encouragement and Twyla's tinkling laugh behind him. 

"Oh David no… this isn't," he starts and nearly falls over his feet as he follows behind David because of course he's going to follow David. The rest of words fade because David Rose is circling him on the dance floor, his body moving with the rhythm of the song, his mouth moving along with the lyrics which should be impossible with how large his smile is.

The smile he's directing at… him. 

He must look like such an idiot. This beautiful, elegant man is dancing literal circles around him and all he can do is slowly rotate so his eyes never leave David's twirling body. 

Patrick resists the urge to put his hands in his pockets and instead tries to add a little bit of a shoulder shimmy and not fumble over his own feet as he tries to keep up with David’s movements, not willing to miss a second of his body moving around him, for him. 

David's hands lift above his head as he twirls and shimmies… his hips not missing a beat. It's not anywhere near the ballet he's seen David dance but it's no less elegant, not less attractive. Maybe a bit more so, the freedom and laughter across David's face makes his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. 

God, he's feeling so fucking  _ fond.  _

Laughter bubbles inside Patrick's chest and eventually spills into the pocket they've created in the middle of this dance floor. 

It's a happy joyful sound, a sound Patrick's not sure he's, well he's ever made. 

This man… he is stuck on his heart. He does hang on every word he says. He's felt like this for weeks, since that first yoga class and the very brief conversation that followed.

He really  _ really  _ likes David. He's beautiful and attractive yes but he's funny, he's got the biggest heart and Patrick… likes him  _ a lot. _

Patrick’s been so focused on trying to define his sexuality before he let himself feel anything, but maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe what matters is that he likes David, he has feelings for David that he’s never had for anyone else and maybe that’s enough. 

David grabs his hand and pulls him into his orbit, his other hand settling on Patrick's hip in some kind of attempt to get them moving together.

Patrick's certain if anyone could make his body move in any sort of cohesive way, it's David. 

Patrick's hands run across David's shoulders, down the length of his arms, thinking back to that night he saw him dancing in the studio. They feel as good as he'd imagined that night even though they're now covered by a soft black sweater.

They fall against each other, David's laughter joining his own. Patrick tilts his head back and let's David spin them, move their bodies together towards something that feels like a beginning instead of the end of a song. 

The song eventually fades into something smoother and they move to a calmer and gentler sway and Patrick's eyes take in as much of David this close up as he can. 

He eyebrows, his dark lashes, that gleam in the lights of the dance floor.

He's ethereal, magical… and Patrick's beyond smitten. 

David's arms tighten around Patrick's shoulders, laughter flickering across his face.

"I uh… hope this is okay? I've never passed up a Tina but that song is a little bit of a favorite," David admits bashfully, his long lashes fluttering quickly against his cheeks.

"That's the most fun I've had in a very long time. I'm really glad I came to yoga."

A small shy smile replaces the laughter as David's eyes travel across Patrick's face. Patrick does his best to suppress a shiver as David's palms run the length of Patrick's shoulder blades. 

Patrick takes a second to soak in this moment that feels a lot like the anxiousness before a baseball game starts or the curtain of a show opens for the first time.

Patrick can feel his heart in his throat and his mouth is so dry and he wants to  _ kiss _ David so terribly bad. 

He swallows hard and tightens his grip on the other man's waist, closing the distance between them, the full length of their bodies press together, still somehow swaying in time to the music which definitely has everything to do with David.

One of David's hands travels up his neck, the cool of his silver rings leaving goosebumps in their wake before settling with his palm holding Patrick's jaw and David's long fingers teasing the skin just behind his ear. 

It feels so right. He's never wanted anything the way he wants this and it's terrifying… that he can feel this way, this strongly about another person. 

Patrick's eyes flicker down to David's perfect pink lips and he loses his breath, it's just… gone. All he can hear is his heart thundering in his chest and he knows he's going to kiss David before he actually does.

He almost sees it before it happens like some kind of out of body experience.

But that doesn't prepare him for how it feels to press his lips against David's. They're painfully soft and warm.

His stomach flips and his toes are tingling and is this what it's supposed to feel like? 

Patrick settles into the kiss in an instant, proud of himself for going for it. For not letting his brain keep him from taking this chance with David.

One of Patrick's hands moves from David's waist to his neck, his finger tips running across the stubble where his jaw meets his neck until they work their way up so Patrick is caressing David's cheek, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the soft skin.

David let's out a delighted sound from the back of his throat and his fingers fully curl around Patrick's ear, pulling his mouth firmer against his own and tilting his head back just enough to give David just a bit better of an angle.

His hands are so big, Patrick knows this… has thought about them for weeks but they're on his body now, not to teach but to _ touch _ and he shivers as the realization dawns on him. 

He can feel David's stubble against his chin and now his cheeks as their faces are pressed together so tightly and he's overwhelmed by all of it, he  _ loves  _ it. 

David's tongue slips between Patrick's lips and Patrick loses all feeling in his legs and his blood rushes south and his nerves sing. 

He rushes to feel, to taste David's mouth in return and he's never had a kiss like this. It's all consuming. 

He wants to build it a monument, write it a song.

Patrick's breath rushes back into his body and his lungs are burning with the need for oxygen but surely he needs this kiss to continue more than he needs to breathe. 

The hand that's now on David's waist slides up his flank and around to grip his back as he slowly breaks the kiss. 

He mourns the taste of David's mouth, the cosmopolitan on his tongue fiercely. His forehead falls to David's shoulder and he takes a deep shaking breath. 

God he hopes David doesn't— 

"Regrets?" David asks softly, his fingers tracing the line from Patrick's ear to his neck, his fingers cool against the heat of his own skin. 

Patrick's head lifts so fast he goes dizzy for a second before his eyes settle on David's tentative face.

"No, David… I've never done that, with a guy before. But I—" he swallows and runs his palm across David's back letting his hand smooth out the now wrinkled fabric of his sweater. 

"It's okay Patrick, you don't have to—"

"No, I want to. This is new for me but it feels right. I've wanted to kiss you for a long time so, thank you for….making that happen for us."

"You kissed me."

"You  _ danced _ ." 

David chuckles and starts swaying them along to the song again, a smile playing on his lips and threatening to spread across his whole face.

It does spread when Patrick presses a kiss to the corner of David's mouth right where he knows his dimple is. 

—————

“So, not even Stevie knows what song you’re dancing to,” Patrick says, moving to sit on the counter next to David’s open cosmetic bag that seems to be filled with backup makeup and hair pins for everyone.

“And how do you know that?” David asks from where he stands a few feet in front of Patrick, stretching. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure I would have gotten it out of her by now. She  _ thinks  _ she’s an impenetrable fortress but I can normally get her to cave.”

David laughs loudly, “Not to discount your persuasion, honey, but Stevie cracks for most people she likes.”

Patrick preens a bit under the idea that he’s one of the people Stevie likes. He knows this in theory, but other than Twyla and David it’s hard to tell who exactly Stevie considers her people to be. 

“You look far too smug about that realization. Don’t tell Stevie I told you that,” David says as he rolls up on the balls of his feet, his balance perfect as his arms lift in a perfect arch over his head.

It had taken a few months to get the showcase planned and ready to go. Patrick did all the booking and handled all the catering and the alcohol and everything in between so David could focus solely on getting his dance ready and helping everyone figure out what they were going to do for the showcase. 

Everyone’s so excited, running around the dressing room trying to get ready. Twyla had tried to talk him into whatever it is she’s doing to promote her yoga class but he’s turned her down, preferring to be in the audience to finally see David perform. 

Before long Patrick finds himself in his seat and watches as David takes the stage to introduce the studio and the instructors and to thank everyone for all their help in making this happen, especially Patrick Brewer.

He can’t be certain between the bright lights of the stage and the dimness of the auditorium but he feels his eyes meet David’s.

It’s only been a few months since they started dating but he’s so far beyond gone for this man. 

Patrick, even though David told him it was wildly inappropriate, hoots and hollers his way through everyone’s performances. 

David’s ballet number with his student’s is absolutely stunning and it’s to the song he’d heard David dancing to all those months ago but he’s perfected it… taught it to other dancers and it’s amazing.

David’s amazing. 

Stevie wraps up her jazz number and David takes the stage by himself, his solo dance closing out the night. 

Patrick sits up straighter and leans forward in his seat, his palms rubbing nervously across the denim of his jeans.

When he hears the opening chords to The Best he nearly falls out of his chair. He can’t believe David would include this song in his showcase. It doesn’t match the  _ brand _ , as David would say, of the show.

But here he is, his boyfriend moving across the stage with such confidence Patrick can’t bear to blink in case he misses a single moment. 

David is just as gone for Patrick as Patrick is for him and his chest swells with something that feels a whole hell of a lot like love. 

Patrick’s on his feet and moving towards the backstage area before the stage lights have even fully dimmed. 

He knows David needs to mingle, needs to talk and make connections and sell people on the studio but Patrick really needs to kiss him first.

He grabs him just as David exits the stage and pulls him so tightly against himself he can feel David’s breath rush out of him.

“You liked it then?” David teases. 

Patrick just smiles and pulls David’s lips down to his own, swallowing David’s startled chuckle.

“I did. I think I would go so far as to say it was, simply the best.” 

Patrick laughs as David’s face scrunches up and his head falls back in mock irritation, Patrick can tell by the purse of his lips. He pulls him back down for one more kiss before shoving him towards the waiting crowd. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric from Welcome to New York by Taylor Swift.
> 
> Thanks again to my army of supporters and editors and hand holders. Love you guys.


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